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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29835900">Ghosts of a Somber Past</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirSombergast/pseuds/SirSombergast'>SirSombergast</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Animal Traits, Animalistic, Anthropomorphic, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Monsters, Mutual Pining, Pining, Self-Insert, Slice of Life, Spirits, anthro animals, draft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:42:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,260</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29835900</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirSombergast/pseuds/SirSombergast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As you may have observed in the tags, this story functions as a fictionalized personal story that has allusions to some real life events but not necessarily realistic enough to be considered my "real life" to explain the background of my monstersona (Sombergast). It is simply created to keep track on things that will be canon in-character presentation. </p><p>This is also made for writing practice (specifically in regards to how I can properly present self-inserts that have major roles), as I wasn't able to hone my writing ability at the same extent as my drawing skills. Thus, it may be rather clunky here and there, requiring a lot of critique in terms of consistency and delivery. The current story may also not be final and may be subject to both revisions and reformatting.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ghosts of a Somber Past</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>DISCLAIMER: As Sombergast places more emphasis to more negative aspects of my personality, he may have an outlook that is more cynical than the one I have in real life. I have like five different monstersonas that exaggerate certain aspects of who I am for some flare. No need to attach real concerns to this story. It's all fantasy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I had enough. I felt like I waited too long to leave. Though to be fair, waiting probably wouldn't be the right word. It would be more accurate to say that I only came to a realization recently after years of indifference towards the things that happened around me. I spent so much time alone that I thought that things would go smoothly as usual. I was proven wrong in more ways than one. Now both my heart and mind sunk. I resented everyone around me, including those who had nothing to do with my predicament.</p><p>How it all began exactly was very vague to me. All I knew was that at my youngest, I used to explore the school campus with a small group of people. We ate, played, walked, and possibly did some other forgotten activities that we enjoyed at the time. Then concerns of a new curriculum started to spread across the country, which caused my mother to worry that I would end up finishing education rather late, so she and a teacher made me join a program to see if I could skip a grade. It was successful, and I advanced to first grade without going through second kindergarten, but that was also the biggest turning point of my life.</p><p>I was academically competent in relation to my older classmates but also became very socially inept. My first attempt at trying to gain a friend was to simply approach the girl that my mother had told me was my cousin. I couldn't remember the conversation and couldn't be bothered to. Only the outcome was important to me because we never became close in the end. Then there were the other students. They posed no importance to me and my only memory of them was when they would keep on asking me for paper and borrow my things; however, when it was my turn to do the same, they all said the same thing.</p><p>"Mom told me that I can only lend stuff to friends or to people they know."</p><p>It seemed reasonable at that time. Then I recalled years later as to how their parents and grandparents sat near them and us at lunch on the benches outside the cafeteria. I also talked with the adults often which technically made it impossible for them to not know me. The part about only giving to their friends? Well, I did try to befriend them much before the time I needed to borrow stuff from them but they all shot me down. It was weird because they befriended every other new kid in class. Now the statements they made started to sound like excuses rather than any real reason. I would never demand them to change for me however. One thing became certain though. I decided to buy ample school supplies for myself to the point of excess yet also chose to become more selfish during high school. Every time someone asked me for something, I shot them a stern and subtly threatening look. My generosity clearly died and I had no interest in reviving it. I no longer drew free artwork for people. I no longer lent comfort to those who cried. I no longer gave money to those who asked. I figured that to demand payment for kindness would perhaps ease my burdens to prevent people from taking advantage of me. Yet in the end, all it lent me was a crippling amount of loneliness.</p><p>I told my mother about these things and she comforted me by telling me that I didn't need friends. She said I only needed her. I believed her and that was another terrible mistake, because as years passed by, my condition had only become more severe. Even indirect communication became too much for me to bear. I no longer needed to see the faces of my peers to feel both disdain for them and horror for the things to come.</p><p>These thoughts raced my head and all made me feel I wrote too much. The details I recalled were too blurry that I couldn't be as vivid as I wished. </p><p><em>"Shit! Enough with the thinking! Time to do some real shit," </em>I hissed at myself critically under my breath.</p><p>I was alone at home with my brother at that moment. Honestly, I hadn't really talked to him that much in a while despite sharing the same roof. Although that would simply be because I refuse to speak with him after he punched my face. Well enough with the rambling as the rant was supposed to be over. Let us go through with what I would be doing for now.</p><p>I decided to take a stroll out as the roads being quiet for this month was a great opportunity for me. Not having a single person in sight was a great confidence booster indeed.</p><p><em>"Today would be the perfect day to take in everything. I should look around,"</em> I thought to myself.</p><p>I began my venture outside my comfort zone by straying unto the path of uncut grass. Truth be told, there was a lot to see when nature ran free and untamed. The sturdy trees that I saw by the path's sides ranged in size, but the deeper I went, the more of them towered over the buildings from the city I called home. The case of their sheer size was so evident that their branches and leaves began to cover the sky except for the narrow cracks they left that seemed as if the plants tried to avoid touching each other. Various captivating vines then crawled up the majestic botanical towers, dressing them with the full glory of the wild.</p><p>As for the flowers, I couldn't begin to describe how much I would've gushed over them, yet my face somehow refused to even give out a small smile. Whatever smiling for a mouthless entity would be. It was disappointing to be unable to express the pleasure of seeing them. There was simply so much beauty to speak of. I could mention a few of them so you could think about the imagery too.</p><p>Many of the shrubs and bushes held out flowers into the air. Their forms were tiny and clustered together like a tightly packed bun. Though it would be more accurate to say that they reminded me of pompoms but much more vibrant, lively, and just better. Of course, sticking to the little things wouldn't be able to capture the diversity that I saw, as some of the other flowers were in fact huge. They splayed out in plain sight like colorful skirts that were upturned. Heh, those were very lovely sights. I never found myself hanging around with women much, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy some thoughts involving what was under their skirts. Then there were moderately sized blooms that would make for incredible pendants if it weren't for the fact that flowers wither. Now, if sizes were the only things that were different, the world would still be insanely boring. The true cause of wonder to me would be the shapes some of the leaves and the petals had. The forms of roundness, sharpness, and length were the things that made the vegetation have a semblance of identity. Resemblance to whiskers, faces, bells, and so many more could be seen in the humble woods.</p><p>I was truly entranced to the point that I forgot about everything else. Then I came back to my senses and scanned my surroundings once more. I knew I was lost despite my calm composure. Apathetic yet fully aware of the possible danger that lied ahead. I would admit that I didn't know what to do.</p><p>Indecision led to a pause in movement. Then I started to fidget because immobility was irritating. Then I felt a certain presence was looming over me for reasons unknown, reasons that made me wish I remained in the trance of beholding beauty. Its presence felt like it stood tall and to closely stand with it would surely be my demise. I still decided to walk further down the heavy woods regardless. Though the awareness created fear that was truly agonizing. The slow pacing I had sped up along with my heart. Then I began to run. Like, holy shit. </p><p>"What the fuck was that?" I thought.</p><p>I moved clumsily. I had no proper direction and nearly tripped a few times. Nothing was in sight, but I could've sworn that someone or something was following me. </p><p>A few minutes became hours of running across the overgrowth. I was hoping to find something to fill my aching stomach with. Clearly I recognized that it was very stupid of me to have brought no food. I didn't even eat anything before I left for this nor for the day, because I wanted to go out before people started to appear. I was reminded of how incompetence could come from paranoia, yet I couldn't see myself breaking this habit anytime soon. A cold sense of hopelessness then spread throughout my body as that crossed my mind. I had so much time to try yet no progress. My heart became heavy and my eyes teary. It was something I put the greatest efforts to suppress seeing how pathetic it was to cry over something so simple.<br/><br/>"I'm not a baby anymore," I said to myself under my breath.</p><p>My movements started to become much slower as my energy ran out and the pain became more intense. The only good news was that I no longer felt the ominous presence. And for the first time in my journey, I finally decided to have some focus. I looked ahead but with more intent than to simply admire things. There before me was a cottage roof made of golden straw, brick walls painted in white, and a maroon chimney. That was a strange-looking structure in context to where I lived, because frankly, I never saw a house with a fireplace or a chimney in my country (that is if fireplaces were what chimneys were supposed to be attached to). Perhaps it was risky for me to visit. That evaluation made me crippled with anxiety and delayed my investigation for a few more minutes before I decided that the reaction was ridiculous, so I walked towards it, albeit rather carefully and I hoped that choosing to ignore my fears wouldn't spell death for me. </p><p>Let me be honest here. I never feared death but always feared how I would die. The feeling that I had about being followed a while back didn't help. <br/><br/><em>"Hey, it's not like I saw anyone there. It's just my brain making me feel paranoid," </em>I thought with the vain effort to comfort myself.</p><p>I nervously looked through the windows of the cottage as I reached it. I was hoping and praying that no one was home to startle the ever living fuck out of me. Much to my pleasant surprise, no one was there. Though that did pose some problems on its own. One was that I couldn't get inside. The doors were locked, go figure. Now I had to scramble about to see what I could use to enter. My first idea was as retarded as it sounded. I treated this situation like one of those videogames and scurried about to look for keys in hopes the owner hid it somewhere outdoors. I was disappointed to say at least. Whoever owned the cottage wasn't as stupid as I hoped.</p><p>My next attempt was to look for materials to create a makeshift lock-picker. That failed as well, because I wasn't as smart as I wished I was. I let out a frustrated sigh. Actually, I was more furious than frustrated, because my hunger was also killing me. I curled into a ball to hold back the tears. Such bullshit, this was. I never had to go hungry my whole life, so crying about being hungry for just a day was rather weak of me.</p><p>My impatience grew, so I picked up a rock from the ground, then threw it at the window with the highest force I could. The glass shattered loudly in contrast to the deafening silence of the woods. Then it had hit me once more. The unnerving feeling of being followed returned. I shouldn't have made noise that loud in a place like this, but what was done couldn't be undone, so I just quickly but carefully entered through the now broken window.</p><p>Having entered the living room, my first instinct was to look for the kitchen. I sped walked towards it, since it wasn't very far, then opened the fridge. The food present there was pretty standard. There were oranges, cheese, eggs, slices of ham, a jug of water, and a few more that I wouldn't care to mention. I took all of them out as quietly as I could, even though it felt pointless given how loud I was earlier. I ate and drank then hurried out the room. </p><p>Just as I returned to the living room, I caught eye of a rather tall and dark figure who sat on the sofa across me.</p><p>"So I wasn't imagining things," I said.</p><p>He briefly looked me in the eyes and they were the only things on his mouthless face that needed to tell me that he smiled. My anxiety spiked up at his presence. I didn't know what to do. Then I heard him speak.<br/><br/>"Do you remember me?" he asked.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone! I'm always looking for constructive feedback on my work! Feel free to point out flaws in spelling, pacing, and general delivery. Detailed analysis tend to be the comments I prioritize in responding, as I like to inquire about opinions in detail.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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